


can I not grasp them with a tighter clasp

by _helios (neocitz)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Inception Fusion, Angst, Hopeful Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 21:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14145465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neocitz/pseuds/_helios
Summary: Mark dreams of a boy whose smile is filled with sunshine





	can I not grasp them with a tighter clasp

**Author's Note:**

> sorry to anyone waiting on other fics, i genuinely couldn't shake this for weeks. 
> 
> this was written in like two days and is in a completely different style to how i usually write, i hope that it's an interesting one! thanks to Sarah for giving the start a brief look over.
> 
> un-beta'd

Haechan sits on Mark's desk eating a packet of chips.

He’s paging through the textbooks that Mark abandoned in favour of a movie hours ago, not really reading but just flicking from page to page. Mark has since abandoned watching the movie as well, placing his laptop on the bed next to him and reclining back into the pillows littered on his bed.

Light filters through the windows behind Haechan. It’s too bright for dusk, but time is edging into those hours and the curtains further soften the warm light in the stillness of Mark’s room.

It makes Haechan look beautiful.

'What are you looking at?' Haechan says through bites. He doesn’t look at Mark but he’s smiling, soft and sweet, and Mark can’t help smiling back.

'You.’

Haechan doesn’t blush, he never does. But he still looks embarrassed by Mark’s words, eyes closing for a moment before he looks back at the textbook in his lap. He throws out the packet of chips and closes the book, looking directly at Mark for a long, serene moment before he slides off the edge of the desk.

'What movie are you watching?' he asks instead.

‘I’m not sure,’ Mark answers honestly. The movie is still playing on the laptop, a flash of colours and lights and scenes that Mark can’t follow. ‘I think it’s an action movie.’

Haechan climbs onto his bed, settling into Mark’s side. Haechan is pressed between the wall and Mark, but he doesn’t look uncomfortable. It’s only a single, too small for two young men but they make it work.

He watches the screen for a moment, the flicking and switching of the frames not disturbing him. ‘Looks like it,’ he agrees. Then he closes the screen.

It falls silent in the room, the background buzz of the movie not noticeable until it was gone. Mark slides down a little bit, bringing himself level with Haechan, resting an arm over the younger boy’s waist. They lie face to face on top of the covers, and Mark can’t help but notice that his smile hasn’t left his lips.

‘I wish we could stay here forever,’ Mark whispers, letting the words hang between them.

‘You’re ridiculous,’ Haechan presses his forehead to Mark’s, bright eyes fixed on Mark’s own. He presses his lips to Mark’s, something soft and chase, before drawing back. ‘I do too.’

Then he pushes Mark off the bed.

 

 

Mark jolts up, his chest heaving as he gasps for breath. He can’t see for a moment, squinting against the harsh fluorescent lights above him, and he has to stop to take in his surroundings. The first thing he hears is the tick of the analogue clock on the wall, offset by a steady electronic beeping. It takes him a moment to remember it’s Taeyong’s heartrate monitor.

‘Bad dream?’ Jaehyun asks from where he’s seated at the desk on the other side of the lab. He turns to look at Mark only briefly, a glance over his shoulder before turning back to the laptop in front of him. Mark can hear the clicking of his fingers against the keyboard, skimming his readings from the speed he seems to be hitting a single key with.

‘No, just woke up earlier than expected. I woke up from a kick,’ Mark says, pulling the IV out of his arm. There’s always a level of disorientation when he wakes up from a kick, the feeling of falling lingering on the edges of his mind even as he knows he’s safe. He heaves himself over the side of the hospital bed, sitting up as he waits for his head to settle back into being _awake_. ‘How long was I out for?’

‘Twenty minutes or so.’ Jaehyun stands up at that, shoes squeaking against the linoleum floors as he makes his way over to Mark. He passes Mark a bottle, and Mark sips from it blindly as Jaehyun dissembles the PASIV. Mark’s head is throbbing ever so slightly, the tension headache that’s been chasing him all day having not dissipated despite the time he spent asleep.

He’s never been great in the moments after waking up, especially when he’s woken up earlier than expected. He won’t be able to clean and pack up the PASIV for another few minutes, not without breaking it, so he’s grateful for Jaehyun’s help. He knows that Jaehyun’s buried under research at the moment, reading article after article, and probably can’t even afford the ten minutes it will take to pack up the PASIV. The older man is kind like that, most of the time.

‘Where’s Johnny?’ Mark asks.

‘He’s gone to get coffee.’

‘Good.’ Mark’s vision’s starting to be more than the bright burn of the lights, and he rubs his eyes to try and adjust to the room. He squints at the outline of Jaehyun’s body, starting to pick out more than just a dark blur. ‘He’s spending way too much time in here.’

‘We all are,’ Jaehyun says, and the accompanying laugh is bitter. Mark doesn’t need to be able to see to know that Jaehyun’s looking at Taeyong. He can’t help the idle, awful thought that runs through his head, wondering how many of his friends resent Taeyong.

‘Any progress?’

‘Nothing,’ Jaehyun sighs, and he closes the PASIV with a click. ‘You’ve got class in an hour, you should probably go. We’ll text you if anything happens.’

Mark can tell when he’s being dismissed.

 

 

A year and a half ago, Mark Lee found a piece of paper taped above the urinals, requesting participants for a psychological study. He, initially, agreed because they were offering to almost two hundred dollars and Mark was in desperate need of cash at the time. He filled out the surveys, completed some tasks under observation and managed to get a little ahead on his savings.

What he didn’t expect to come out of the study was a group of overprotective and overstressed senior students as friends. They were from different degrees, different universities even, but they took him in and declared him one of theirs between cups of coffee and jugs of cider. Yuta and Dongyoung had been the ones that introduced him to the group, but then Mark met Taeyong.  

‘It’s hard to describe,’ Taeyong said, eyes alight with excitement. ‘It is, at it’s most basic form, a device that allows for dream sharing. But it’s so much more than that. The closest way to describe it is lucid dreaming, but we can control our own dreams, enter other people’s dreams. You can’t understand what it is, not until you actually experience it.’

Taeyong had been the one to show Mark the PASIV.

‘Imagine what we can do with this,’ Taeyong led Mark through the streets of a city Taeyong designed. Mark followed in awe, taking in the shifting buildings that grew and changed in front of him. ‘The possibilities are endless, there are so many different things that dream sharing can be used for if done properly.

Taeyong had been the one to let Mark into his dreams.  

‘We’ve tried a kick but it’s not working,’ Johnny ran his hands through his overlong hair, eyes fixed on Taeyong’s ashen figure. He swallowed, alight with tension and fear. In the year that they’d known each other, Mark had never seen the usually calm and relaxed Johnny so worried. ‘We’ve tried entering the dream, but we can’t _find_ him. It’s been two days.’

Taeyong had been the one who wouldn’t wake up.

 

 

Mark’s class pass in a blur of powerpoint slides and too-fast lecturing for a subject that he doesn’t care enough about. He’s looking forward to starting his honours years, just so that he can stop attending required classes that has nothing to do with what Mark wants to study. Yuta always jokes that Mark’s got it easy as an undergraduate and that he should appreciate it, but Mark doesn’t feel like it’s easy at all.

The tram home isn’t too crowded, just enough so that Mark has to stand rather than sit, and he leans against the doors to watch the streets fly by. There’s a couple of high school students on the other side of the tram, laughing loud and clear, and combined with the constant announcements about the next stop, it just makes Mark’s headache worse. He wishes, for the umpteenth time, that he didn’t keep putting off buying new headphones but there’s nothing he can do about that now.

He wishes, for the umpteenth time, for the world to be a little quieter.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, an irritating buzz that Mark deems unimportant as soon as he sees who is on the other end. Jaemin, his screen says with a decent selfie of the pair of them flashing up. He’s ten minutes away from their apartment as it is, he’s sure that whatever Jaemin has to say can wait until he’s home.

Mark returns to find the apartment a mess, Jaemin and his boyfriend Renjun are standing in the middle of the living room. Renjun is tiny, and angry and Jaemin looks like he’s about a minute away from crying. They both look at Mark as he opens the door, the creak of the door cutting the yells that rise from both boys. Everything hangs for a moment.

Mark pauses, debating whether or not he should turn around and leave, before he shoulders past them into his bedroom. He shuts the door and drops his backpack onto the floor. The argument has started again, this time in low hisses and jabs in a misguided effort to respect Mark, and Mark wishes that he cared enough to intervene. Instead, he climbs into bed and pulls his pillow over his head.

Mark falls asleep, and he doesn’t dream.

 

 

‘You spend too much time here,’ Haechan says.

They’re in a café now, rather than the privacy of Mark’s dream-bedroom. Mark can’t read the menu, can’t read the signs: they’re all words and letters jumbled together to make no sense, but Haechan can. He was the one that ordered, promising that Mark would love it.

‘I’m not,’ Mark tries not to get defensive, letting the tension roll out of his shoulders. ‘It’s for research purposes, anyway.’

He doesn’t want to think about the fact that Haechan is telling the truth.

Haechan laughs, and he rests against the table so he’s looking up at Mark with a smile. ‘So, I’m _research_ , am I?’

Mark blushes. ‘Not really, no.’

‘You getting anything from this _research_? Is it helping with the whole Taeyong project?’ Haechan asks, as if he doesn’t already know the answer.

He doesn’t say it meanly, is instead curious and kind as he waits for Mark to speak.

Mark sighs. ‘Honestly? Nothing,’ he runs his hands through his hair. ‘There’s barely any information about dream sharing and PASIV in the real world, so we have to rely on our own experience.’

Haechan nods, sitting up again to take a sip from the drink in front of him. Mark hadn’t even noticed them appearing, and he looks around the café. It’s more likely, he reasons, that they just appeared out of nowhere.

It takes a moment, for Haechan to speak again and he looks up with wide, bright eyes. It’s almost overwhelming, that this boy is Mark’s. The way his smile lights up the entire room, the way his attention fixes on Mark.

‘What’s it like, in the real world?’ Haechan asks.

‘The same as here,’ Mark gestures around him, ‘louder, I guess? Messier, maybe?’

He looks around him.

Mark’s dream world is based off the real world. He’s not artistic like Ten, adventurous like Johnny or nostalgic like Yuta, he can’t build a world beyond that of what he knows. Instead, his dream world resembles the suburbs that he’s called home since he was ten – small yet sprawling, a strange oasis from a city that is only twenty minutes away by car.

Mark’s always been more the sort of person to get close to a small group of people than the wide range of half-friendships and acquaintances. It transfers into his subconscious as well, it seems, because he doesn’t fill his world with many projections either. Only a few people wander past in his dreams, not knowing anything beyond this place Mark has built for himself.

It’s nicer here, than the real world.

‘Do I exist, in the real world?’ Mark pauses at Haechan’s question, turning back to the boy. He’s never asked that before. ‘I mean, I have to, right, even just in passing? Because I have a face.’ He pauses. ‘Do I have a face? Oh, my god, I’m a faceless projection of your subconscious.’

Mark can’t help laughing, ‘You have a face, Haechan. Don’t worry.’

‘Is it a nice one?’

‘The very nicest.’

 

 

Mark wakes up when the timer expires this time. One minute he’s taking a sip of his drink, the next he’s blinking up at the ceiling of the lab. The overhead lights have been turned off, but the lamp is on so Mark’s eyes adjust quicker than last time. Mark sits up and pulls out the IV, dropping it into the waste bin that they use. He’s not alone in the room again, even though it’s drawing closer to nine at night. Johnny is sleeping in the seat between the two beds.

Johnny has a book open on his lap, but his torso is sprawled across Taeyong’s bed. Mark is fairly sure that Johnny’s been there for a while already, from the creases across his cheeks. Mark packs up the PASIV, taking extra care not to break anything in his groggy state, before walking over to the older man. Johnny’s breathing is steady and quiet, and when Mark nudges him, it hitches before Johnny groans lightly.

‘At least sleep in the bed,’ Mark murmurs, ‘this is going to be hell on your back.’

‘You made it back,’ Johnny sounds half-asleep, seconds away from dropping back to sleep. ‘Don’t forget to record everything, yeah?’

‘I know,’ Mark promises. He’s more concerned about making sure Johnny’s okay than about his own dream. He’s not sure if anything important can be drawn from the times he hooks himself up to the PASIV. Still, he writes it down and leaves it for Johnny and Taeil to read, in case they find something that he misses. ‘Just, make sure you get some rest, Johnny. You can’t sleep here all the time.’

‘Can’t sleep at home, either,’ Johnny says. He climbs on the bed but curls on his side, half asleep but always facing Taeyong.

 

 

‘I’m sorry,’ Jaemin says, pushing forward a bowl of pasta. ‘I didn’t want you to have to see that.’

It’s been a week since Jaemin and Renjun’s fight, and Mark hasn’t seen Renjun around since. It’s not their longest fight, but Mark can tell from Jaemin’s red eyes and unkempt hair that it’s a bad one. They’ve been dating since orientation week, having hit it off at one of the events that the student union held, and Mark’s gotten so used to them being Jaemin-and-Renjun that he’s not sure what they’re like on their own.

‘It’s okay, I’m sorry if you felt embarrassed or something.’ Mark shrugs. ‘Are you, _okay_?’

Jaemin is probably the closest thing Mark has to a best friend. They’d gone to the same high school, a year apart, and never really talked to each other. Mark was a year older and stretched too thin across the different club activities that well-meaning teachers had convinced him into. Mark barely interacted with anyone in the Jaemin’s friendship group, apart from one class in year twelve.

It was only three weeks into Mark’s second year at university, when he’d been roped into giving a lecture to the first years about how to use the library, when he and Jaemin actually said anything more than _hi_ to each other. A brief catch-up had turned into a beer and dinner at their local pub every Thursday, which in turn became them agreeing to split the rent on a modestly sized apartment twenty minutes from their university.

‘I’ve been better,’ Jaemin says, and he forces that smile on his face that doesn’t reach his eyes at all. ‘We’re just, going through a rough patch.’

‘What happened?’ Mark isn’t the best person for relationship advice, he knows that. Jaemin knows that, but he still seems to appreciate the sentiment as he starts talking.  

‘His high school ex has moved down to the city, and they’ve been hanging out a lot. I shouldn’t feel jealous, because I know that he loves me. But, I do?’

‘Wow,’ Mark doesn’t know what to say to that. ‘That sucks?’

Jaemin laughs, and it actually sounds somewhat real. ‘You’re terrible at this, you know?

‘I’m trying my best!’ Mark isn’t sulking, he’s self-aware enough to know that when it comes to relationships, he gives terrible advice. But still, he can’t help the slight whine to his voice because he always gets picked on by the younger boy. Jaemin seems to find it funny still, however, and smiles down at his pasta.

‘I know,’ he pushes the garlic bread cross to Mark, the plate scraping against their cheap dining table. ‘I’m just, trying not to think about it too much. I’ve apologised, but he’s still not _happy_. I’ll work it out.’

‘You guys always do,’ Mark says. ‘What if you got to know the ex?’

‘Get to know Jeno?’ Jaemin scrunches his nose. ‘How am I supposed to do that?

‘They’re both from the country, show him around or something? He probably doesn’t know Melbourne that well. Renjun’s been here two years and he still doesn’t know the city that well.’

‘That’s actually,’ Jaemin sounds surprised and Mark shouldn’t be so offended, ‘a good idea? Thanks.’

‘I’m not a complete robot,’ Mark grumbles.

‘Sorry, but you’ve literally been single as long as I’ve known you and you’re not exactly the biggest romanticist,’ Jaemin says and Mark feels that pit of guilt swirl in his stomach. ‘I know that you don’t need to be in a relationship to lead a fulfilling life and all that nonsense, but seriously? You need to do more than go to classes and spend time in that lab. There’s no-one that you’re at least interested in?’

‘No-one,’ Mark lies.

 

 

‘Has Johnny left the lab at all in the past few days?’ Yuta asks. ‘Besides today, I mean.’

There are six of them in the lab, sitting on the floor because that’s the only space with enough room for all of them. It’s not the most hygienic place ever, and if Taeyong was awake he’d definitely be lecturing them. But it’s the only place where they can all eat without being disturbed. Mark unwraps his burger, leaning against the wall of the lab as he taps at his phone.

‘He slept here last night, again,’ Taeil says, bent over his own laptop. His souvlaki is going to get everywhere, but he doesn’t care as he taps through something. He’s supposed to be preparing for his PhD, between trying to wake Taeyong up, and sometimes Mark is amazed at the way Taeil handles himself. They all say that Mark is fully capable, but how can he consider himself so when everyone’s holding themselves together better than he ever will be able to.

‘What if we try and convince them to revoke his keycard access?’ Yuta suggests with a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, they dart over to Taeyong for a moment before back again. ‘Or at least restrict it?’

‘We should just, keep an eye on him,’ Jaehyun sighs, running his hands through his hair. He’s the closest out of all them to Johnny, Mark knows, and is the one who drags him away from Taeyong’s bedside to make sure he eats enough. He’s the one that’s wearing thinnest over this debacle, after Johnny. ‘He’s stubborn, especially about this.’

‘We need to wake him up, and soon,’ Dongyoung sighs. ‘There’s only so much longer we can keep Taeyong here before his family demand we move him to a hospital instead.’

Mark feels himself go cold. If they move Taeyong to a hospital, they’ll lose any chance of being able to wake him up from the dream. Doctors know _shit all_ about PASIVs, even the more progressive ones, because it’s got so little to do with the medical field. He can understand Taeyong’s parents concerns, but none of them what that to happen.

‘I got an email from someone from the University of Sydney,’ Sicheng says, scrolling through his phone. ‘A professor of architecture uses PASIV to conceptualise buildings, and put me in contact with one of her students.’

‘Students?’

Taeyong has been asleep for three weeks and all of them are starting to get worried. Even Jungwoo, Dongyoung’s boyfriend who studies literature at Monash (a good hour by public transport from the city and their university) is starting to make phone calls and send emails to anyone who knows anything about PASIVs and dream sharing technology. They’re just a group of students from a university, however, and their supervisor doesn’t have that much of a reputation either, so Mark’s not convinced that they’re going to get much.

‘He’s the only actual user of PASIV who has emailed me back relatively quickly.’ Sicheng shrugs, putting his phone down to the look at the small group of people huddled around their food. ‘He’s the best chance we have, with the wall that we’ve hit.’

‘Keep emailing him, then,’ Taeil says, taking the lead of the conversation because without Johnny and Taeyong, they flounder and flail. It’s the closest that they have to leadership in this small group, and Mark appreciates it even as he wishes so, so desperately that the world was that little bit easier and that Taeyong would just wake up. ‘See if he has any suggestions, ideas, _anything_. We’re too fucking desperate to let this go.’

 

 

Shortly after he showed Mark the PASIV, Taeyong made sure to tell Mark the dangers of the machine.

‘The world is a mess, but you can’t let yourself spiral away from it. The PASIV isn’t meant to be an escape, it’s a tool but not a fix,’ Taeyong said. Taeyong enjoyed cafes and bakeries, and often dragged Mark out to the different coffee shops scattered around Melbourne’s CBD just to try their cakes and coffee.

That day, he took them to a little hipster shop that boasted concrete floors and walls, and didn’t sell low-fat milk.

‘Do people do that?’ Mark asked, bag at his feet.

‘You’d be surprised,’ Taeyong said with a serious nod, even as he sipped from the bright pink milkshake. ‘That was the main reason it took so long for the tech to be released to the public.  People were getting fucked up and just … trying to use the PASIV to block out what was happening in the world. Promise me you’ll never get lost in a dream, Mark.’

‘I promise.’

 

 

‘I think they’re giving up,’ Mark says to Haechan as they stroll through a park.

‘On what?’

‘Dreaming.’ He looks down at his hands, where Haechan’s fingers are intertwined with his before looking back up at the park in front of him.

It borrows from the botanical gardens, the playground of his old primary school and his mother’s garden. This isn’t their first date here, but the ephemeral nature of dreams makes it feel new. It’s one of Mark’s favourite dreamscapes, because the lights and the colours makes Haechan look that much brighter, that much more beautiful.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Jaehyun’s not using the PASIV anymore, none of them are. I think I’m the only one who’s still _trying_. At least through dreaming.’

‘Why do you keep coming back?’ Haechan steps closer, leaning his head against Mark’s shoulder and looking up at him. ‘What can you learn from this, Mark? You keep coming back but you never learn anything from this?’

‘I do,’ Mark denies, even as the lie falls from his lips. ‘I learn so much from here.’

‘No you don’t,’ Haechan says, smiling up at Mark. ‘I don’t mind it, but you need to stop pretending that you come here to help your Taeyong.’

Mark sighs, looking out across the park. ‘Am I giving up, by coming here and just spending time with you?’

‘That’s up to you,’ Haechan says softly. He presses a kiss to Mark’s shoulder. ‘You still care about him, and you’re trying to help him. But I’m just saying that we’re not exactly doing stuff that makes you understand dreams better, are we?’

Mark doesn’t want to think about it right now.

He stops walking, so that Haechan pauses and looks up at him. Mark leans down, pressing a kiss to Haechan’s lips. It’s slow and drawn out, languid almost. Mark kisses Haechan and feels everything melt away in that moment, because it’s just the two of them.

Haechan smiles as he pulls away, before starting to walk again.

‘Why did you call me Haechan?’ he asks. He’s asked the question before, and he’ll ask it again.

‘Because your smile is like the sun,’ Mark whispers, a secret between them.

 

 

The restaurant that Jaemin has chosen is loud and crowded but makes some of the best pho that Mark’s ever had.

He weaves through the tight crowd of tables, the building packed to capacity at seven on a Saturday night. He almost elbows a waitress in the face and ducks around a group of customers sorting bill, whispering apologies to both. Eventually, he makes it to the small table in the corner that Jaemin is sitting at with Renjun and another person that he doesn’t know.

There’s a general buzz of sound around them, from people talking and the kitchen, and Mark has to lean in close to hear the introductions.

‘Mark, this is Jeno,’ Jaemin points to the smiley boy next to him, who shakes Mark’s hand with a strong grip. ‘He’s an old friend of Renjun’s.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ Mark smiles and it feels genuine for once. He tries to let go of the thought that this is the first real break he’s had since Johnny first told him that Taeyong wasn’t waking up. ‘Jaemin’s told me a lot about you already.’

‘Good things, I hope,’ Jeno says, and Mark lets out a laugh. ‘I’ve managed to make a fool of myself in front of him twice already. Injun’s at least used to me being a mess.’

They had been good things. Jaemin’s taken Jeno and Renjun out three times this week alone, helping Jeno settle in small apartment he’s rented out. Every night, he’s come home with a different story about how unfunny Jeno is, or how nice and polite Jeno, or how Renjun’s smile is so sweet when he looks at Jeno. Jaemin wears his heart on his sleeve and Mark’s happy for him, hopes that Jaemin’s happy.

‘Trust me, not a bad thing yet,’ Mark promises. ‘I’ve heard that you’ve moved down for study?’

‘Yeah, I did a year online but Injun convinced me to move to the city and study on campus instead,’ Jeno explains. ‘I’m definitely liking it more. Home’s nice, but it’s … it’s different to the city.’

‘That’s one way of putting it,’ Renjun laughs. ‘You don’t realise how small Ballarat is until you move out of the country.’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ Mark admits. He’d been to Ballarat once when he was in year five, but that was about it. His parents never really saw the point in going out to the country, preferring to holiday along the coast. ‘I’ve lived in the inner suburbs since I was ten or so. I’m the definition of a city boy,’ he scratches at his neck with a small laugh. ‘Or as city boy as we can get around here.’

‘That’s right, Jaemin said that you guys went to school together or something?’ It’s Renjun who asks this, turning to look at Mark.

‘Yeah,’ Mark nods. ‘It was a massive public school, but we’ve known of each other for years. We weren’t close or anything, he had his friends and I had mine.’ It’s not quite a lie, but it’s not quite a truth.

‘Speaking of!’ Jaemin lights up, sitting forward slightly. ‘I’ve a friend coming over this weekend. He’s my best friend since primary but decided to go to fucking Sydney to study, I can’t wait to introduce you to him. I think you’ll really like him, Jeno.’

‘Sounds great, Nana,’ Renjun says, smile soft as he looks at the two boys. Mark realises, somewhat with a shock, that these boys are _happy_ and in love.  

 

 

 

‘What are we supposed to do?’ Johnny’s voice cracks as he says it. ‘We’ve tried so much and we’re still getting fucking _nowhere!_ ’

There’s a harsh rasp to his voice, betraying the fact that he’d been crying, and he slumps over. His face is braced in his hands and his shoulders are shaking, silent sobbing working through his body. Mark ducks away from the entrance to the lab, laptop tucked under his arm and he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know whether he’s supposed to walk in and help or if he’s supposed to pretend this never happened.

He’s friends with these people, but he doesn’t know how to talk to them, how to break past the barriers. He feels helpless in the mess that is the real world, and wishes that Haechan’s steady presence wasn’t limited to just a dream because life would be so much easier if he had that ball of light and positivity to help him make his way through life.

‘Johnny,’ Sicheng says, consoling and soft. ‘We keep trying, we keep trying every avenue that we have until we find a solution.’

‘But what if we don’t? His parents won’t let us do this for much longer, the _school_ won’t let us do this for much longer. We’re almost at a month and we’re not qualified for this.’

‘No-one is. That’s why we’re trying so hard. Taeyong knows the most about the tech out of all of us, so we’ve to look somewhere else. I told you I’m emailing that kid from Sydney. He knows a lot, he might be able to help us. He’ll come down this week, to try and help us.’

It’s almost strange to hear Sicheng, of all people, comforting Johnny. He’s always been one of the more reticent members of their friendship group, content to let the others lead the conversation. It makes Mark feel doubly useless as everything passes him by, that he can’t even think of the right words to support his friends, that he can’t find the research to pull Taeyong out of the mess that he’s in.

Mark rests his head against the wall, looking up at corridor above him. He can hear the hitches of Johnny’s breath, the soothing tones of Sicheng’s reassurances, the general murmur of the students around the corner, and he can’t help but wonder if this is what they will be forever. How much longer would they be chasing the tendrils of something they don’t know anything about?

He can’t even bring himself to help out.  

He wonders how long until they splinter and break. They’re tied together by friendship and Mark loves all of them for it, but there’s a pressure on them that grows with every day. Already there’s the snapping and the tears, and Mark’s sure that in due time they’ll just start retreating from each other because there’s nothing more they can do. He can’t even bring himself to blame Taeyong for it, because it’s not even Taeyong’s fault. It’s everyone else’s.  

 

 

It’s edging into June, in reality, and winter in Melbourne has a certain brand of miserable that Mark hates. It’s not too cold, not too wet and not too windy. And yet it manages to be all three at the same time.

His dreams are fixed in the end of spring, he’s fairly sure. There’s the warmth of November without the scorching heat of high summer, there’s no perpetual buzz of mosquitos, and everything feels _nice_. It’s pleasant, spring has always been Mark’s favourite season.

They’re at the beach this time. It’s a bay beach, with wide stretches of smooth sand and calm waves and with none of the tourists that flock to them. Mark’s always loved the beaches, loved the drives away from the city into the quieter towns that dot along the peninsula

‘You’ve never brought me to the beach before,’ Haechan lies in the sun that’s nowhere near as relentless as the real sun.

‘Yes, I have,’ Mark says. He’s ankle deep in the freezing water, letting it splash over him. ‘I took you to St Kilda beach, remember?’

Haechan cracks an eye open, looking at Mark with a puzzled expression. ‘No, you didn’t.’

‘Maybe I made that up,’ Mark says, turning back to look out across the water.

‘Maybe you dreamt it,’ Haechan giggles and it cuts through the wash of waves. ‘What are you thinking about?’

‘Nothing much. Just that I can probably just walk forever here, and the water won’t rise higher than my waist.’

‘You can do that in reality.’

‘Not forever.’

‘But still, you can do it at some of the beaches, can’t you? It’s probably nicer there anyway, the smell just isn’t right in a dream.’

Mark climbs up through the sand, throwing himself down to lie next to Haechan. It’s soft and warm and he lets the light of the sun heat his skin as he looks at the relaxed boy in front of him. ‘It’s not nicer, you’re not missing anything.’

‘I didn’t say I was missing anything,’ Haechan sits up, looking down at Mark. ‘I know that I’m never, _ever_ going to live in reality. I’m not upset about that.’

‘Then why did you bring up it being nicer in reality?’ Mark laughs, but it’s edging into a little bit of bitterness. ‘Reality sucks.’

‘Mark,’ Haechan looks _heartbroken_ and there’s nothing Mark can do to fix it. ‘Please don’t say that you come here just to get away from reality.’

‘Come on,’ Mark stands up. ‘Walk with me.’

He leads Haechan down to the water, and tries not to think about his answer.

 

 

Mark comes back from a lecture to find all of his friends in the lab. Johnny is sitting in his seat, holding Taeyong’s cold hand whilst the rest of them stand in a circle. Taeil’s eyes are shadowed, and Sicheng’s lips are pressed into a thin line. Mark can’t tell if they’ve got good or bad news, but he’d be happy with just any news.

‘There’s a specialist team who might be able to fix Taeyong,’ Jaehyun says, his face pale and gaunt as he looks to the bed in front of him. ‘They’ve got the funds and the connections to potentially fix him.’

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ Mark croaks, looking to an unusually silent Dongyoung. ‘I mean, we’re barely holding it together. Anything that can potentially help is better than being stuck like we are.’

‘They don’t even know if they can wake him up. He’ll become a test subject,’ Yuta explains, ‘in fucking Paris.’

 

 

 

‘What are you hiding from?’ Haechan says, curled into Mark’s back.

They’re lying in Mark’s bedroom, on the small bed that Mark has never been able to bring himself to extend even in his dream world. Mark doesn’t often sleep in dreams, instead lies in his bed and blocks out the world.

It’s dark, in his dream. The sun has set and he’s got the dim light of a lamp illuminating just enough that the room feels suspended. He can see the colour of the walls that he never got quite right, books that he can’t read, the photos of memories that he’s probably misremembered.

He turns around, and he can the brightness of Haechan’s eyes, the small smile that tilts his lips. He sees happiness, and non-judgement and understanding in the boy’s expressions and curls his hand into Haechan’s shirt.

‘I don’t want to go back,’ he murmurs. ‘I want to stay here.’

Haechan sits up, and the lights of the room flare in response. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘I don’t want to wake up,’ Mark says, the words feeling real and strong on his lips even as he curls away from Haechan. ‘I fucking hate it out there.’

‘Look at me,’ Haechan grasps Mark’s cheeks, forcing him to look up. ‘What kind of statement is that? You don’t want to wake up?’

‘It’s awful out there, in reality.  I hate it, I _hate_ it.’ Mark stands up, pacing around the length of his bedroom as he looks to Haechan on the bed. ‘I spend all my time studying, and if I’m not doing that then I’m trying to tiptoe around friends that I can’t even talk to anymore?  I’m trying to help Taeyong and I can’t do a think about it, but I can’t even support Johnny in all of this? I’m just, not happy?  I can’t breathe out there because it’s so awful and I come here and it’s quiet and calm here.’

He can feel himself tearing up, burning at the corners of his eyes. He presses the heel of his palms into his eyes, to try and stop the tears and he looks down at his wonderful, wonderful boy.

‘And I come here and you _love_ me here? You still love me and it’s not scary and everything is okay.’

‘Mark,’ Haechan stands up. He presses kisses to Mark’s cheeks, his lips, his eyelids. He kisses away Mark’s tears, and pushes him so he’s sitting on the bed. He’s crying as well. ‘I’m not real.’

 

 

Taeyong’s dream world is beautiful, always has been. It borrows from cities around the world, architecture that is mismatched but cohesive, and filled with faces that Mark can’t recognise.

For someone who claims that he isn’t artistic, Taeyong has a wonderful sense of aesthetic.

Mark follows winding, curving streets that are abandoned and projection free. He’s not supposed to get distracted by the houses and buildings that he moves past, but he does. Everything has a sense of antiquity to it, curving buildings that have stone details long since abandoned by modern architecture. It’s all muted, like there’s a filter over the world that make it soft and quiet.

It’s both beautiful and terrifying, because it’s so similar to what Mark wants for himself.

The lack of projections is unsettling. They’re supposed to protect the dreamer’s mind, and Mark knows to be wary of someone else’s projections. But there’s not a single soul in Taeyong’s dreamscape. Mark can’t tell if it’s because Taeyong doesn’t feel the need to protect himself, or if because Taeyong doesn’t think he deserves it.

He set a timer, before entering Taeyong’s dream, and he knows he only has twenty minutes in the real world. He doesn’t know how long that will translate to down here, but it’s long enough.

The team from Paris flew out as soon as Taeyong’s parents approved the transfer, and they’ve got hours until they pack Taeyong up and fly him across the world. Mark can’t let him go without trying one last time, won’t let him go.

He has to look for Taeyong, at least one last time.

‘What are you doing here?’ a shrill voice cuts through the silence and Mark turns to look behind him. ‘You could get stuck like your friend.’  

Haechan stands in the middle of the road and he’s looking at Mark with a glare on his face. His arms are crossed in front of him, and he doesn’t look happy. Mark can’t help the smile that works across his face, can’t help the way his heart lights up.

‘I didn’t think you’d be here,’ he says, walking over to him. ‘I was so scared I’d have to do this without you.’

He takes Haechan’s hand, linking their fingers together. ‘Will you help me find him?’ he asks, and Haechan looks down to their joined hands and then up again. He nods, and there’s something in his eyes that Mark can’t read but there are more important things.

Mark wanders through the dream, Haechan a few steps behind him. It feels like the right thing to do.

 

 

Time passes differently in dreams. Almost a month in the real world should technically be decades in the dream world, so Mark looks for an old man. He doesn’t see a single soul besides himself and Haechan, and instead tries to fill the silence with sounds.

‘You were right you know,’ he says conversationally, to a much quieter Haechan than usual. He wonders if it’s the different dreamscape that’s throwing the boy off. ‘I need to stop hiding, and then I realised. Taeyong’s like me, a bit.’

‘How so?’ Haechan asks.

‘He protects himself from the world in little ways, keeps things a bit closer to the chest.’

‘Keeps things a lot closer to the chest, you mean,’ Haechan says with a snort. He hasn’t let go of Mark’s hand, but he’s trailing behind ever so slightly. ‘It’s dangerous being in here, do you have a totem?’

‘You’re my totem,’ Mark says, voice serious and level.

‘A person is not a totem,’ Haechan huffs. ‘Get yourself a proper totem to remind yourself if you’re dreaming or not, _please_.’

‘The fact you’re here with me, reminds me it’s a dream,’ Mark says, and his smile feels a little forced again. ‘I’ve told you this before.’

Haechan looks at him, a considering look that Mark does his best to ignore. He falls silent, and it’s unsettling for once. There’s an eeriness to Taeyong’s city that Mark can’t ignore.

‘I’m going to start using the PASIV less,’ Mark says, eyes tracing the windows in front of him in the hope that he can find Taeyong. This city is large and endless, and Mark worries that he won’t find his friend before the time runs out. ‘Once I find Taeyong, I’m going to focus on living in reality.’

‘That’s nice,’ Haechan says. ‘Good for you.’

‘I’m going to find you in reality,’ Mark says, and he smiles.  

Haechan is a projection, but not a projection of Mark’s subconscious. He’s a projection of Mark’s past.

 

  
They find Taeyong sitting in a café, drinking a large milkshake, He’s not an old man, like Mark expects, but rather young.

‘Taeyong?’ Mark asks, and the boy looks up at them.

He’s about eight, if Mark was to guess, and he looks at Mark and Haechan with wide eyes. He plays with the straw of his milkshake, small hands twisting and turning the plastic but his chin is tilted up and his eyes are dark.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asks.

Mark slides into the seat opposite Taeyong, letting go of Haechan’s hand. ‘I’m here to take you home.’

‘I’m _happy_ here,’ Taeyong says, impetuous in youth and not at all like the man that Mark knows. It would almost be cute, if it wasn’t heartbreaking. ‘I don’t want to go back to reality.’

‘So you know this is a dream,’ Haechan raises an eyebrow as he slips into the space next to Mark. ‘And yet you stay here and avoid everything outside.’

‘I like it here more,’ Taeyong says, and Mark wonders what would happen if he pushes. But he knows better than to do that, not with the time that they have, not with the state that Taeyong’s dreamt himself into.

‘You told me never to do this, to never get so lost and caught in yourself. The PASIV isn’t meant for this,’ he says, rubbing his free hand on his jeans. Haechan squeezes Mark knee, it’s comforting and Mark sends Haechan a quick smile before turning back to Taeyong.

‘The world is awful, what good is out there that I can’t get here?’

‘Everything? We can’t just, ignore all the bad things in the world and block it out,’ Mark and Taeyong are more alike than most people think, and Mark can’t help but feel the squirm of guilt. If not for Haechan, he would have let himself get into the same state as Taeyong. ‘The good here is _fake_ , Taeyong. There’s nothing real about it, it’s just escapism.’

‘I’m happy.’

‘You’re being selfish,’ Mark snaps. ‘What about me? What about your parents? About Ten and Johnny and your fucking lab partner? How the fuck are we supposed to deal with the fact you’re not doing anything but just hiding down here?’

‘Youngho,’ Taeyong whispers, and it takes Mark a moment to remember that Youngho is what Taeyong calls Johnny. ‘Is he, not okay?’

‘He’s ruined,’ Mark answers, honest and bleak. ‘Barely sleeping, barely eating. He’s practically killing himself with stress.’

Taeyong exhales, a sad, _sad_ sound of defeat.

Mark blinks, and in front of him is a grown man with a tired, heartbroken expression on his face. He’s beautiful and fragile and Mark has missed him so much.

‘Let’s wake up now,’ Taeyong says. ‘I need to fix this.’

‘We should probably go,’ Haechan says with a nod, taking Mark’s hand again. ‘Do you have a place that could work?’

Taeyong leads them up a flight of stairs at the back of the cafe, a metal spiral that curls up and up and up until the reach a balcony that overlooks Taeyong’s city. It’s beautiful and lonely and Mark can’t help but wonder if this is what his city looks like, with nothing of meaning within it.

Haechan squeezes his hand, a questioning look in his eyes, before they step up to join Taeyong on the edge of the balcony.

Mark looks at Haechan, a quick glance, and realises that the boy’s ears are pierced. They’re never pierced in Mark’s dreams.

‘Oh,’ he whispers before they step off the side of the building.

 

 

Mark sits up, and the first thing he registers is the noise. Johnny is crying, and Jaehyun is laughing and Taeyong…

Taeyong is speaking.

‘I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,’ he’s whispering, again and again. His voice is hoarse and dry and _real_. He’s clinging to Johnny, but he’s looking from person to person and his eyes settle on Mark’s over Johnny’s shoulder. Mark feels tears prick in the corners of his eyes, and he turns away to remove the IV before Taeyong notices. He throws the needle out and doesn’t bother packing up the PASIV.

There’s still a third person who’s connected to it. He looks at Mark, and he has bright ears and pierced ears and he is very real. 

Mark leaves before anyone else notices he’s woken up.

 

 

‘You’re being awfully quiet,’ Jaemin says, ‘which is strange. Because you’re usually quiet, but not this quiet.’

‘I’ve a lot to think about,’ Mark admits. He’s seated on his bed, folding the laundry that he’s been putting off for weeks. It’s calming, and quiet and perhaps Mark can get that peace in reality, if he looks hard enough.

‘You overthink things, that’s your problem,’ Jaemin leans against the doorway of Mark’s bedroom. ‘And you never tell people things. Which is really funny for someone who studies psychology.’

‘Did you know?’ Mark looks up at Jaemin. ‘That I dated Donghyuck in high school?’

Jaemin laughs. ‘Yeah, I did. You guys had Biology together, didn’t you? Only time our friendship groups ever crossed.’

‘We fought all the time,’ Mark says. ‘I was a complete ass about it.’

‘I know,’ Jaemin looks behind him a moment before back into the room. ‘I also know that you guys never talked out any of them, just shoved it all under the rug and moved on.’

‘Yeah,’ Mark sighs. ‘I never liked fighting.’

‘Mark,’ Jaemin says, voice soft and kind. ‘Do you know why Renjun and I work? Why we were able to start including Jeno in our lives?’

‘Because you guys are soulmate?’ Mark jokes, and it draws a laugh from Jaemin.

‘Because we talk, about everything. We resolve our fights, we share our insecurities, we _communicate_.’

Mark would laugh, if not for the fact that he’s spent three years studying a degree that proves just that. He can only nod his head in agreement with what Jaemin is saying. He knows that Renjun and Jaemin work well, knows the reasons behind their relationship’s success.

‘Do you think you could do it again, with the talking?’ Jaemin asks. Mark sighs before giving a small shrug. ‘Okay then. I’ll leave you two to it.’

Mark’s head whips up as Jaemin walks away. He whispers something to someone in the corridor, and then Donghyuck is standing in Jaemin’s place.

Donghyuck looks at Mark. He’s wearing a University of Sydney hoodie that’s too big for him, his hair’s starting to show a little bit of regrowth and his ears are pierced. He’s not smiling, something closer to a scowl on his face.

‘Your room’s a mess,’ he says, all bark and no bite as he walks closer. ‘I can’t believe Nana lets you live in this kind of mess. Your mum wouldn’t have let you get away with this.’

‘I clean before she comes over,’ Mark says with a shrug, but he’s smiling as he looks up at Donghyuck. Because Donghyuck is beautiful, and he’s angry and he’s _not perfect_.

And for some reason, that makes Mark so, so happy.

Because Haechan was perfect, and smooth, and all smiles and sweetness in Mark’s dreams. He was a perfect boy based off an imperfect boy, living in a perfect world based off an imperfect world.

‘Donghyuck,’ Mark says, ‘would you like to go to dinner with me? We should probably talk about things.’

Mark has had enough of trying to escape reality.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed that one, it was a bit different
> 
> hit me up on [tweetuh](https://twitter.com/neocitz)


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